


Day Two - Hodel

by anotherusedpage



Series: Sunrise, sunset [2]
Category: Fiddler on the Roof
Genre: Collection: Purimgifts Day 2, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-23
Updated: 2010-02-23
Packaged: 2017-10-07 12:22:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/65119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anotherusedpage/pseuds/anotherusedpage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She does not know how to keep Shabbat in a land where the sun does not rise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Day Two - Hodel

**Author's Note:**

  * For [seekingferret](https://archiveofourown.org/users/seekingferret/gifts).



> Three drabbles. Art is hand drawn in brush-and-ink

It comes as no surprise that nothing her mama ever taught her had prepared her for this.

She does not know how to keep Shabbat in a land where the sun does not rise. The stars that welcome the Sabbath bride are visible before the day is begun.

There is firewood that must be carried, if they are not to freeze to death. She flings it onto the blaze, watches it catch and spark. Out of her control, and too soon consumed.

_I did not create this_, she thinks, and tears come unbidden to her eyes, scorching her frozen cheeks.

*  
_Perchik, the Jew_, she hears his comrades call him. _Not a Jew_, he corrects, gently. _Not here, not now. A socialist. A comrade. _

She reads the pamphlets he writes. Argues with him, passionately. Does not say, not ever, that he seduced her with a future in which men and women, _Jewish_ men and women, could dance together. A future where they could change things.

Here in this frozen waste, it feels like nothing will ever change. She feels exiled not just from home and family, but from self.

She resents him his comrades. She resents him for knowing himself, here.

*

And yet, they make love.

There's little privacy. No mikvah - she knows herself to be unclean. The days are long and exhausting, and the nights unbearably cold.

She fears pouring the disparate parts of her exiled self and soul into another person. Fears opening herself up to his passion and pride. Fears carrying their child in her weary body for nine months before gifting it, battered and bloody, to this frozen exile.

And yet, they make love. With something like desperation, she clings to him.

The sun rises. She imagines the future they will create together.

In exile.

In love.


End file.
